


just take me back to yours that will be fine

by goodbye_yellowbrickroad



Series: good old-fashioned lover boys [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: 1971, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, Crying During Sex, First Time, M/M, Minor Injuries, Oral Sex, Rimming, Violence Warning, everything that happens between john and roger is in fact very consensual and healthy, john is not the one who punches roger, the blood does not appear during sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 18:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17146466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodbye_yellowbrickroad/pseuds/goodbye_yellowbrickroad
Summary: Roger gets punched in the face but somehow, it turns out to be worth it.





	just take me back to yours that will be fine

Roger stirred his drunk with his finger idly. Around and around, he watched the liquid swirl in the direction he told it to go. His chin rested in his palm, his elbow propped up on the bar. He heaved a heavy sigh, tiredly, and let his eyes fall shut. 

Not one hour earlier, he’d been  _ buzzing.  _ Drumsticks in hand, him and his two best friends keeping the crowd alight. They were having fun, they were good, they didn’t have a care in the world. But he couldn’t just stay onstage forever. He had to come down from his adrenaline high sometime. And now he had done just that, and all of his problems weighed his shoulders down once more; Queen wasn’t going anywhere as fast as they had hoped and Roger had three missed calls from his parents and Queen needed more original songs if they were ever going to record an album and maybe Roger never should have dropped out of dental school and Roger definitely needed to stop showing up to these gay bars if he wanted to keep his reputation alive. 

Roger raised the glass to his lips and drained the rest of his sickeningly sweet drink into his mouth, reveled in the way his body grew a little warmer, in the way his head floated a little higher. 

“Hey, there,” a suave young man said. He dropped down onto the barstool beside Roger, swiping his wavy block locks out of his eyes and shooting Roger a winning smile. His legs seemed to go on forever and ever, his arms pressed viciously against his sleeves that were barely containing them. He winked and said, “You look like you could already use another drink, sweetie.”

Roger looked up and it really took all that he had in him not to just roll his eyes at the man now sitting beside him. Not that he cared if he hurt the guy’s feelings. On the contrary, Roger would have loved to be the one to shatter his ego the size of Great Britain. But Roger had come into this bar with a plan: get in, get fucked, get out. And Roger never broke a promise (at least, not one that he’d made to himself).

Roger put on his most winning smile and tucked a loose strand of his golden hair behind his hair. “Yeah, guess you’re right.”

“How about I get you one?” the man said, lips curling in satisfaction. “And then we can have a dance?”

Roger leaned in a little closer. “I think that sounds like an excellent plan.”

“Excellent.” The man leaned in just a little bit closer. “What are you having?”

Roger ordered his drink, and the man ordered one for himself, and soon they had their glasses in hand. 

“Shall we dance?” Roger asked gesturing to the dance floor. 

“Slow down,” the man rested his open palm on Roger’s thigh. “What’s your hurry? Enjoy your drink.”

_ I’m in a hurry ‘cause you’re obviously kind of an asshole and I’d like to get to fucking and then never see you again,  _ Roger sighed inwardly but he put on another smile, leaning in closer still, and he sipped his drink.

They sat and chatted, sipped their drinks, and made small talk. It became clearer and clearer by the second, to Roger, that this guy really was such an asshole. He was full of himself, gloating about himself, cutting Roger off, and talking over him.  

When the man, who had eventually introduced himself as Brad (though whether that was really his name or not, Roger couldn’t be sure, after all people hardly ever used their  _ real  _ names in places like this and, in fact, Roger himself had told the guy that his own name was Tim), had leaned in so close that he was barely an inch from Roger’s lips, he asked, “Are you ready go dancing, sweet cheeks?”

Roger set his empty glass down on top of the counter. He slid his hands up Brad’s thighs and rested them on his hips. “Oh, absolutely.”

They stood together, Roger keeping his hands on Brad as they made their way across the crowded room to the dancefloor. Roger noted how incredibly tall the man who he walked with across the bar was and thought that his body certainly made up for his shitty personality. Brad held drink in one hand and played with Roger’s hair as they went, not bothering to pay attention to where he was walking. Brad turned sharply to drag Roger in a new direction, toward the corner of the dancefloor, but the only thing that came out of it was Brad running headlong into another person; his drink was knocked sideways, spilling all over his front. 

“Hey!” Brad shouted angrily at the man he’d just walked into. 

The man looked up at him from where he was on the ground, having stumbled backwards and fallen down. 

“Watch where you’re going, why don’t you!” Brad forced his (now empty) glass into Roger’s hand, surged forward, and lifted the stranger up by the front of his shirt. “I ought to throw you clean through a wall!”

“I don’t want any trouble,” the stranger told Brad, his feet dangling several inches off of the ground, and that made Roger frown a bit. Because that was just the same as his thinking, he didn’t want any trouble. Not here, at least, not now. One wrong move in here and -- well, Roger shivered at the thought. 

“You don’t want any trouble, eh?” Brad raised his eyebrows. 

Roger wanted to tell his one-night-stand-to-be to put the poor bloke down and forget about him, but just like the poor bloke said himself: “I don’t want any trouble.”

“Come on, I’m sorry,” said the stranger. “I’d like to just go home now, please. Just set me down.”

Roger tilted his head a bit, curiously, because here was this man who was shaking and sweating and he looked to be on the verge of tears, but he spoke to Brad in such a civil manner. He almost sounded  _ calm.  _ Roger could picture, very clearly, if their roles were to be switched; Roger would be swinging his fists and yelling and spitting. Don’t start trouble in a gay bar, for sure, but how do you remain smooth and steady and  _ calm  _ when a mountain of a man is holding onto you like a rag doll?

“Set him down,” Roger said softly. 

Brad looked at him, grimacing. “ _ What? _ ”

“Come on,” Roger sighed. “Just set him down and let’s get out of here. It was an honest mistake.”

Brad dropped the stranger to the floor and rounded on Roger, getting very close to his face, and holding onto him by his shoulders. “I’m soaking wet now,” he seethed. 

Roger inhaled sharply. “Please let go of me. I don’t want any trouble, I didn’t mean to upset --”

“No one wants any trouble but everyone keeps starting it!” Brad spat, looking incredulously from Roger to the stranger who was getting to his feet and back again. 

The stranger was brushing himself off and he mumbled something unintelligible.

Brad rounded back on the stranger. “ _ What  _ did you say to me?” he snapped angrily.

“He probably said  _ you’re  _ the one causing trouble,” Roger snapped. “Because you’re such a  _ dick. _ ”

The fist came at Roger in a blur of color. One second he was fine, admittedly he was very angry, but overall he was fine. But next thing he knew, he was sprawled out on his back. Everything seemed to have gone black and all he could hear was the sounds of people shouting and feet scuffling. There was a metallic taste on his tongue. 

“Hey, that jerk stormed off, don’t worry… Are you okay?” Someone asked him. 

Roger’s eyes flew flew open to find that it was the stranger who Brad had lifted off of his feet. “Oh, hi -- um --”

“Shit, that’s a lot of blood,” said the stranger and he helped Roger to a standing position. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

“I’ll -- I’ll be fine, uh --” Roger stopped talking abruptly, swaying on the spot, and he almost threw up because of the blood dripping into his mouth. 

“Are you sure about that?” the stranger raised his eyebrows. “I live just a few blocks away, and it’s really no trouble. You should really sop some of that up, but if you don’t want any help -- I mean, it’s not like I’m going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I, um --” Roger paused, pressed his finger to his nose for a moment, then pulled it away. He watched the blood that pooled on top of his knuckle drip sideways and splatter on the floor. “Could -- actually, could you help me out, please?”

The stranger smiled. “Yeah, of course.”

The two of them made their way across the crowded room and slipped out into the alleyway that served as the entrance to the bar. “This way,” the stranger directed.

It was a short walk and soon they were over the threshold of this guy’s apartment. “Come this way,” he said and directed Roger into the bathroom, gesturing for him to sit on the edge of the tub. “I, uh,” he muttered, kicking a pile of laundry behind the toilet, “I’m sorry about the mess.”

Roger shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Here,” said the man, snatching a box of tissues off of the counter and handing it to Roger. “Start sopping up some of that blood.” He opened up the mirror which doubled as a cupboard and took out a washcloth. He turned the faucet on, adjusted the temperature of the water, and wet the cloth. 

Roger had a tissue rolled and shoved up each nostril, feeling utterly foolish. “Um, thanks for helping me out.”

The man knelt before him, washcloth in hand. He smiled. “Don’t even mention.”

“No, really, thank you,” Roger said. “You didn’t have to help me, but here you are. Even after that dick ran into you and almost beat your ass for it.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” the man said, shaking his head, still smiling. “Could you take the tissue out?”

Roger nodded and pulled the tissues out of each nostril, tossing them into the rubbish bin that stood beside the toilet.

“So,” said the man as he set to work on cleaning up the blood drying on Roger’s face, “that guy… Was he, like, your date or something?”

Roger snorted. “Definitely not. He was just hitting on me at the bar -- bought me a drink, so I went with it.”

“Ah, I see,” said the man, pulling the washcloth away from Roger’s face for a moment. He examined, for a moment, to see if his nose was still actively bleeding or if it was just a matter of cleaning the blood now. “My name’s John, by the way. I don’t think I ever said.”

Somehow, Roger knew he was telling the truth. Maybe it was the his eyes were ever steady, or the way his hands didn’t twitch at all, or the soft smile. He couldn’t pinpoint quite why he believed the man he’d met less than an hour ago, but he  _ did.  _ And he smiled back at him and he said to him, “I’m Roger.” 

“Roger,” John said thoughtfully. “That’s a nice name.” He went back to work, cleaning up Roger’s face and when he was done he asked, “How’s your nose feeling?”

“A little sore but I think that I’ll live,” Roger chuckled and John laughed, too.

“It’s bruising a bit,” said John. “But I agree, you will survive. Still, I could give you some ice if you’d like.”

Roger was sure that he did not need ice; his nose really didn’t hurt all that much. 

“That’d be nice, yeah,” Roger said. “Thank you.”

John nodded, got to his feet, and led Roger to the kitchen. He took an ice pack from the freezer, handed it over, and offered, “Tea?”

“Please,” Roger said, pressing the ice pack against his nose.

John set to work with his hands one more, turning the faucet on and filling the kettle. He set it down on the stovetop, turned the knob, ignited the gas flame. And then those hands were pulling open a cabinet, pulling open a little box, yanking the tea bags out of the box, pulling two mugs down from the cabinet, and Roger didn’t even realize he was watching John’s hands until he asked, “Do you play?”

John looked up from the mugs. “Pardon?”

“Oh, sorry, it’s just that -- uh --” Roger stammered. “Your hands. They’re all -- I mean, I noticed that they’re -- you know -- callused.” He held his hand that wasn’t holding the ice pack to his face. “Mine, too. You play an instrument?”

“Oh, yeah,” John said, smiling at the calluses on his fingers. “Guitar. What do you play?” 

“Drums. Plus I sing a little.”

“Drums?” John said, sounding a little intrigued but maybe Roger was just reaching. “That’s so cool.”

“Thanks,” Roger said. “Are you in, uh, like a band or something?”

“Oh, no,” John laughed. “Definitely not. It’s just a bit of fun, really.”

“Oh, well that’s cool, too,” Roger said, setting the ice pack down on the table.

“What about you, then?” John asked, turning the gas flame off, picking up the kettle, pouring the boiling hot water into the two mugs set out on the counter. “Are you in a band?”

“I am, yeah,” Roger said, nodding. 

“Are you any good?” John asked. 

“I’d like to think so, yeah,” Roger laughed. 

“That’s cool,” John said, smiling. He put the tea bags into the boiling water, took the milk out of his fridge, and pulled the sugar down from a cabinet. 

“So what do you do, then, if you’re not dedicating your incredible guitar skills to a struggling band?” Roger asked, accepting a mug of tea from John. 

John laughed. “Not for a little while now, no.” He leaned against the kitchen counter, lifting his mug into his hands. He took a long sip of his tea and sighed deeply. “But, uh,” he scratched his eyebrow with his smallest finger, “I’m in university. A little bit behind if I’m being honest, but I’m trying to get my degree.”

“Degree in what?” Roger asked curiously. 

“Electrical engineering,” John said. 

“Oh, interesting,” Roger hummed. 

“You don’t have to lie,” John said.

“No, no,” Roger said quickly. “I’m not lying. Look at me, I was a dental student.”

John laughed. “You were going to be a dentist?”

“That was the plan, yes.” Roger grimaced. 

“I can’t picture it,” John admitted, chuckling a little bit before falling silent. “Um… shall I take another look at your nose, then? See if the bruise has gotten any worse?”

Roger tilted his head a little, considering the fact that John had looked at his nose not so long ago, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes earlier, at most. He set his tea down beside the ice pack and smiled. “If you would,” he said. “Please.”

“Of course,” John said, nodding. He set his own tea on the counter and closed the space the space between the two of them, his face just a couple inches from Roger’s, taking a close look at the bruising on Roger’s nose. “It doesn’t look so bad, um -- maybe if you just --”

“John?” Roger interrupted.

“Er -- yes?” John asked, moving back a little bit. 

“What were you looking for tonight?” Roger asked. “In that bar?”

“Oh, uh…” John’s gaze snapped down to the floor. He was suddenly very interested in staring at his feet. “You know, the same as everyone else, I suppose.” He shuffled his feet, shifting uncomfortably. “I -- I’m sorry, but I’d really rather not talk about th-that --”

“It’s okay, you can relax,” Roger said softly. “I was there, too, you know. You’ve got nothing to hide that I don’t have to hide, as well.”

John removed his gaze from the floor and looked into Roger’s face once more. “Oh, yeah…” he breathed. 

“So what are you thinking right now, John?” Roger asked. 

“Erm,” John said. “H-how’s your nose feeling?”   
Roger tilted his head. “It’s feeling okay now…” He batted his eyelashes. “What’re you  _ really  _ thinking?”

John’s lips twitched. “I, um, well -- your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

“They’re lovely. Really, very lovely.” 

Roger smiled widely. “Thank you.”

“You’re very beautiful, Roger.”

“Thanks,” Roger chuckled. He reached out to a lay a hand on John’s shoulder. “You are very, very han--” 

“Can I kiss you?” John blurted out before he could convince himself not to.

Roger full on grinned, teeth on display, and he nodded. “Yes. Please. Right now.”

John was eager, that much was clear. Roger didn’t even see John move. In one moment Roger was telling him yes, most definitely yes, he could kiss him; in the next moment, John was doing just that. His mouth was on Roger’s mouth, his body was pressed against Roger’s body, and his hands were in Roger’s hair. 

Roger broke for air, breathing heavily. “Fuck,” he hissed, grabbing a fistful of John’s long hair. “I thought you were handsome, but you’re fuckin’  _ hot. _ ” 

John smiled sweetly, a hint of pink gracing his cheeks, as if Roger had offered him some kind of heartfelt compliment. “Would you want to, uh… Never mind.”

“What is it?” Roger asked. He leaned in while he was waiting for John’s response and kissed the spot below John’s ear.

John groaned. “Why does that feel so good?”

Roger’s lips travelled down to John’s throat, moving over his Adam’s apple. He mouthed at the place where his neck and shoulder met. “Because,” he said, “I’m very good at this.” And then he went back to work on that spot. 

John leaned his back, exposing more skin for Roger’s lips and tongue and teeth to reach. A long moan escaped his lips; it started out soft but it grew and grew.

Roger lifted his head so that he and John were face-to-face once more. “What was it that you wanted to ask me?”

“Never mind,” John said, shaking his head.

“Are you sure?” Roger asked. He leaned in so that they were nose to nose, lips brushing lips. “Because you know, if you ask me for something, I might just do it.”

“Might?”

“It’s likely.”

“How likely?” John arched one eyebrow.

Roger smirked. “I’d say it probably very likely.”

“‘Probably very likely’,” John echoed. “Hmm, I don’t know if I like my odds.”

“Come on,” Roger whined. He wound his arms around John’s waist, pulling him flush against his body and kissing him.

John smiled into the kiss and broke it. “Can I take you to bed, Roger?”

“My god, you’re so formal,” Roger said. He rolled his eyes. “But yes, you can. I thought you’d never ask.”

John smiled. 

“Lead the way, then,” Roger breathed against John’s mouth.

John nodded. He slipped his hand into Roger’s hand and pulled him toward the bedroom, stopping every few paces to kiss him. He pushed the blonde man down onto the bed. Sprawling himself on top of him, John went back to kissing him and playing with his hair. 

John broke the kiss, then, and he started to ask, “Can I, uh --” 

“Yes,” Roger said quickly. 

John laughed. “You haven’t even heard what I want.”

“Don’t care,” Roger said, shaking his head. 

“What if I want something really weird?” John chuckled. He brushed his lips lightly across Roger’s. “What if I’m going to ask for something absolutely disgusting?”

Roger propped himself up on his elbows to kiss John’s lips. “You’re so fucking attractive,” he said. “You can have whatever you want.”

“Can I take your pants --”

“Off?”

“Yes.”

“ _ Yes. _ ”

John grinned and he rolled off of Roger immediately, making quick work of his shoes and socks. John kicked of his own shoes, throwing them onto the floor. He yanked Roger’s trousers down, then, and his pants. John wrapped his fingers around Roger’s half hard cock, stroking slowly. 

“Yeah,” Roger sighed happily, tearing his white shirt open, a couple of his buttons going bouncing across the mattress. He sat up while John continued stroking him to full hardness, holding onto John’s shoulders. “Take off your pants, c’mon. I’ll do you while you do me.”

“No, no,” John said. “You lay back, relax. I’ll take care your first… You’re my guest, after all.”

Roger placed a hand on either sides of John’s face and pulled him into a deep kiss. “That’s so hot, oh my god,” he said, then went back to kissing him. 

John smiled into the kiss. “Lie back now.”

Roger laid back against the pillows, smiling down at John. 

“You said you sing in your band, right?” John said, spreading Roger’s precum all along his shaft. He went on stroking him. 

“Only sometimes,” Roger said in between quick breaths. 

“Will you sing for me?” John asked. 

“R-right now?!” Roger exclaimed incredulously.

“Please,” John asked in this innocent sort of tone, batted his eyelashes. 

Roger tipped his head back as John’s thumb ran along his slit. “Wha-what would I even sing?”

John smiled. “I like The Beatles.”

Roger breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “O-okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Sing for me, Roger.”   
Roger nodded slowly, trying to stay his breathing. 

John settled between Roger’s legs, laying himself down on his stomach, and continued stroking him, slow and steady. 

“ _ Is there anybody going to listen to my story, _ ” Roger began singing sweetly, though his voice shook. “ _ All about the girl who came to stay? _ ”

John didn’t move his hand but he dropped his head to leave a trail of kisses up Roger’s inner thigh. 

“ _ She’s the k-kind of girl you want so much it makes you sorry, _ ” Roger went on, toes curling. His body shook more and more as John’s mouth made its way closer and closer to Roger’s erogenous zone. “ _ Still you don’t regret a single day. _ ”

John wrapped his lips around the head of Roger’s cock and sunk himself slowly down until his nose brushed Roger’s torso. He hummed the tune of the song that Roger was singing to him.

“Ah, John!” Roger gasped. “Oh, oh, oh!”

John pulled off of Roger with a  _ pop  _ and Roger whined _. _ “Keep singing,” said John.

“What?” Roger said shakily. 

“Keep singing and I’ll keep blowing you,” John said. 

“Oh my god,” Roger breathed, tipping his head back. 

“Roger?”   
“Yeah, John?”

“Is this too much?” John asked wearily.

“No, John, it’s good,” Roger said. “It’s hot -- oh, god. Okay. Okay.”

John asked, “Are you sure?”   
Roger looked at him and grinned. “Absolutely.”

John smiled. “Then keep singing for me.” 

Roger nodded slowly. “ _ Ah, girl… Girl… _ ”

John licked up Roger’s length then circled his tongue around the tip, around and around. He closed his lips around the head, hollowed out his cheeks, and bobbed his head slowly. 

“ _ When I th-think of all the times I t-tried so hard to leave her, _ ” Roger did his best to go on singing. “ _ She will -- she will --  _ ah, ah --”

With a hand wrapped tightly around the base of Roger’s cock, John ceased in his movements. He pressed his tongue firmly against the underside of Roger’s length, but did not move it; he kept his head as still as he could. He breathed carefully through his nose. 

Roger drew in a long, deep breath. He released it slowly and focused hard. “ _ She will turn to me and start to cry... _ ” he sang. “ _ And she promises the earth to me and -- and I b-believe her…”  _

John’s hand let go of Roger’s dick and dropped between his legs, fondling his balls, drawing a screech out of the blonde.

“Ah, ah --  _ after all th-this  _ \-- oh, god, John! Right there!” Roger’s breathing grew heavier still but he took John’s cue quickly when the brunette ceased in his movements once more. “ _ After all this time I don’t know why. _ ”

John moved once more, swirling his tongue.

“ _ Ah, girl… _ ” Roger sang. “ _ Girl… _ ” he dropped off the note and sobbed.

John bobbed his head, starting to move faster and faster. 

“ _ She’s th-the kind  _ \-- ah, John --  _ of girl who put y-you down when friends are th-there  _ \-- oh, yes!” Roger balled his fists in the comforter and squeezed his eyes shut. “ _ You -- you -- you feel a fool  _ \-- ah!  _ When you say she -- she’s looking g-good she acts as -- as -- as  _ \-- ah, ah, ah! --  _ as if it’s understood  _ \-- John --  _ she’s cool, ooh, ooh! _ ”

John sucked hard, earning himself a long moan in the middle of Roger’s song. 

“ _ Was she t-told when she was young tha-that pain would l-lead -- _ ” 

John pulled off of Roger and looked up at him, looked into his face, blinking. “You skipped a chorus,” he said.

Roger looked down at John, his eyes alight with a sort of panic. 

John grinned. “I’ll let it slide,” he said, lowering his head to take Roger’s cock back into his mouth. 

“Wait,” Roger said sharply.

“What?” John questioned. He looked up at him.

“Can I fuck you?” Roger said, sitting up again. He carded his fingers through John’s long hair and guided John into a sitting position. “Oh, god, please. I wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Take me, Roger,” John said, tugging at the hem of the t-shirt he was wearing and pulling it over his head to toss it onto the floor. He leapt up off the bed, ridding himself of his jeans and his underwear. 

“C’mere,” Roger said and John obliged, laying himself out across the bed. “Can you suck on my fingers for me?”

John took hold of Roger’s hand without a word and dragged it to his lips, wrapping his swollen mouth around Roger’s three middle fingers. He sucked on them earnestly, moving his mouth up and down. He closed his eyes and imagined it was the blonde’s cock back in his mouth; he swirled his tongue around the digits. 

“Good job,” Roger said softly. “That’s it, John, get ‘em nice and wet.”

Once Roger, was satisfied he tapped John’s thigh to let him know he should spread his legs. John did and Roger circled his entrance before gently thrusting one finger in. He moved it slowly.   
“Oh, shit,” John sighed blissfully. 

“Does it feel good, John?” Roger asked, a crooked grin gracing his face. 

“Y-yeah,” John breathed. 

“Tell me how it feels,” Roger told him. “Tell me.”

“So good,” John said and his voice shook.

“How does it feel, John?” Roger asked him and he slid a second finger in beside the first one. He pumped them a little faster. “What does it feel like?”

“It -- it feels l-like --” John gasped for breath. “I -- I don’t know, Roger -- it feels likes --”

Roger slid in a third digit and crooked them all to brush John’s prostate so that —   
“Fuck!” John gripped the sheets tightly and pulled at them. His toes curled so hard he didn’t know if they’d ever stretch the right way again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck -- it f-feels like nothing I’ve ever -- ever --  _ ahh! _ ”

“You never had a finger in your ass?” Roger asked, eyebrows raised high.

“N-no,” John said, shaking his head. “Ah, ah!”

“Are you okay?” Roger asked.

“I’m f-fucking amazing!” John cried. 

“Are you stretched enough?” Roger asked.

“I -- I don’t know,” John said. 

“Right, so that means you’re not,” Roger said and he took his fingers back, wiping them on his leg.

John whined, high and desperate. “Why’d you stop?!” he cried, sitting up and grabbing onto Roger by the shoulders. “Please, I need --”

“Don’t worry,” Roger chuckled. “I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.”

John looked down between them, frowned at Roger’s neglected cock that had gone and red and was dripping. “Do you want me to --”

“No, I want to take care of you now,” Roger said softly. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” John said without hesitation. 

“Lay down,” Roger said and John did as Roger said to do. Roger laid himself down on his front in between John’s legs.  He parted John's cheeks with his hands and leaned in closer to to lick a thick stripe over his hole. A small moan escaped John’s lips. Roger dug his tongue inside and a longer, louder moan left John. 

Roger grinned against John's arse, spreading his cheeks wider and digging his tongue further in, fucking into his hole. John ground himself down on Roger’s tongue, moaning wantonly. 

Roger slid a finger into John’s heat alongside his tongue and he curled up, thrusting against his prostate.

“F-fuck me,” John moaned.

Roger lifted his head and John whined at the loss. “You sure you’re ready?” he asked the brunette.

“Yes, yes,  _ yes, _ ” John said. His whole body was shaking. “P-please, I’m ready -- I’m sure!”

“You’ve never been fucked before,” Roger said, getting off of his stomach and sitting up. “Are you absolutely certain?”

“Roger,  _ please! _ ” John sobbed. 

The blonde smiled down at him. “Alright, alright,” he said, nodding. He stroked his cock so that it was slick with precum. He lined himself up and pushed past John’s rim slowly, relishing in the cry that escaped John’s lips -- his perfect, shining red lips.   
John’s mouth hung open, his eyes were shut, as Roger bottomed out and stilled, giving him time to get used to the feeling. 

“Please,” John whined. 

“Are you okay?” Roger asked, concerned. 

“Y-yes,” John said, nodding. “Please, I --”

“You’re crying,” Roger said. He frowned, eyebrows knitted together. He held himself up over John would one arm and used the other to reach for John’s face and swipe his tears away. “Are you --”

“I’m  _ f-fine, _ ” John insisted. “P-please, I just need -- I need -- Roger, I need you to -- please, just move, I --”

“John?” 

“It feels s-so good, so good -- please --” John sobbed. 

Roger smiled as it dawned on him; John was fine, he was just overwhelmed with pleasure. A warmth spread through Roger’s chest, a bright feeling of pride shining in him.  _ I did that,  _ he thought to himself.  _ I can make someone feel that good.  _

Roger snapped his hips and John let out another sob. “I’ve got you,” Roger said, kissing him softly while he fucked him gently. “I’ve got you.” He thrust faster, harder, deeper. He reached down in between their bodies and wrapped his hand around John’s leaking cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts.

“Th-thank you,” John sobbed. “I’m gonna -- I’m gonna --”

“You can come,” Roger whispered in his ear, kissed his neck, fucked him a little harder, stroked him a little faster. “Fuck, c’mon. You can -- you can do it.”

John’s breath came in short little bursts. “Rog--”

“Come for me,” Roger breathed in John’s ear.

John came with a scream, all of his muscles going taut as they shook violently. His walls squeezed tightly around Roger’s cock and Roger hissed, coming with a sharp cry and collapsing on top of John. 

They laid there for a while, breathing hard and heavy. 

“H-how you doing?” Roger asked after a few minutes.    
“Mmm,” John said, smiling. 

“Oh, come on, sweetheart,” Roger said, smiling. He pulled out of John and sat back on his heels. He took John’s hands into his own and pulled him up into a sitting position. “Can we go the kitchen? Get you some water?”

“Mmm, why?” John questioned. He laid his head against Roger’s chest, smiling.

“Because, love, you went far under,” Roger said, petting John’s hair. “Oh, you went really far under.”

“Hm?” John hummed.

“Let’s get you some water,” Roger said. “Come with me.”

John nodded slowly, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. “Hey,” he laughed, pointing at Roger. “You never took your shirt all the way off. You only unbuttoned it.”

“Oh, you’re so far gone,” Roger said, chuckling.

John giggled, cupping Roger’s face in his hands.

“Water,” Roger said and he guided John out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. “Where are the glasses?” he asked and John pointed to the cupboard above the sink. Roger pulled one down, turned on the faucet, and filled the glass. “Here you are,” he said softly, lifting the rim of the glass to John’s mouth and tipping it slowly. “Drink for me, okay?”

John gulped the water down as if he hadn’t had anything to drink in days.

“Good,” Roger said, setting the glass down on the counter. “Good job.”

John sighed happily and wrapped his arms around Roger, hugging him tightly. “Thank you for tonight,” he said, smiling against Roger’s shoulder. “Was a good night…” 

“Yeah, it was,” Roger said, hugging him back. “So you usually top?”

“Hm?”

“Said you’d never been fucked before,” Roger pointed out. “So you usually top?”

“Never slept with a guy before,” John said, placing a kiss to Roger’s collarbone. 

“Wait, really?” Roger furrowed his brow.

“Well, my friend and I blew each other in high school,” John sighed. He lifted his head up and smiled at Roger. “But I was just exploring tonight, checking out what a gay bar is like. I’ve never seen one before.”

“Huh,” said Roger. “Well, how about that.”

“Was it good?” John asked, tone full of uncertainty. 

Roger snorted. “You kidding me? It was so hot. Oh, god, you’re so hot.”

John smiled. “You’re not half bad yourself.”


End file.
